


ON THE OFFERING OF RAM'S WOOL IN THE HELLENISMOS

by FromSubmarinesToROVs (DemiPalladium)



Series: ANTHEMOESSAN LAURELS [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greece, Alternate Universe - Ancient Greek Religion & Lore Fusion, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Bad Parent Amanda (Detroit: Become Human), Character Is Unaware of Their True Identity, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) is a Demigod, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) is the Son of Poseidon, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) might be autistic, Deliberately Concealed Identity, Demigods, M/M, Markus (Detroit: Become Human) is a descendant of ares, Mistaken Identity, Monsters, Oracles, RK1K Week 2020, Stimming, Traumatized Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Unexpected Identity Reveal, Wool, World Travel, Worldbuilding, and also ancient greece fell much much later than it did irl, buckle up this one's a doozy, but like, don't know yet, if you've studied ancient greece at all this might give you a headache, imagine if the greek gods were real and didn't suck, pre-RK1K, prophecies and destiny, this is sort of a percy jackson fusion??, vaguely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26534617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemiPalladium/pseuds/FromSubmarinesToROVs
Summary: The hero Markus, an acclaimed and accomplished descendant of Ares, having many won battles and slain monsters to his name, spends his time after the Second War of the Delphaeon roaming the country with one of his fellow heroes, North, the Dawnhearted. In their travels they have encountered one of the great philosophers of their age, the Revered Amanda, and had with her a communication regarding her numerous discoveries, especially those regarding Connor: a part-sea-monster kept under her care. The Revered hires them to escort herself and her ward, Connor, to a city Amanda has business in.For theRK1K Week Eventday 7 prompt: free day!
Relationships: Amanda & Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Connor/Markus (Detroit: Become Human)
Series: ANTHEMOESSAN LAURELS [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1929556
Comments: 5
Kudos: 43





	ON THE OFFERING OF RAM'S WOOL IN THE HELLENISMOS

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DeltaPenrose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeltaPenrose/gifts), [Anonymous_IDFK](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous_IDFK/gifts), [wanderseeing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderseeing/gifts).



> OKAY SO BACKGROUND
> 
> This is an alternate universe where 1. the ancient Greek gods are real & better behaved/more caring than they are in traditional mythology, and 2. because of this, the loosely-coalesced Grecian city-states have stayed in power for much, much longer than they did in real life. 
> 
> Markus, Simon, North, and Josh are all heroes, having fulfilled a prophecy regarding the Second War of the Delphaeon, though none are direct descendants of gods -- Markus is "lineaged", or a third/fourth generation descendant of a god, in this case Ares. After fulfilling the prophecy and averting the downfall of the Grecian city-states, Simon and Josh "retired" to life working in a temple, attending to the Oracle Lucy, while North and Markus have just been traveling around. They struck up a rapport with Amanda, an intellectual and great philosopher of their age, and she asked for their assistance in transporting Connor, a being who she claims she found as an abandoned infant and is part sea-monster, saved from true monsterhood by his "kind human heart", from her residence deep inland to a city that must be accessed by coast if on foot, alongside Hank, an ex-militiaman now with a family who's acted as her "childcare consultant". 
> 
> In actuality, Connor is a demigod, a son of Poseidon -- the first full demigod (and not lineaged like Markus is) in a while. Poseidon hasn't taken kindly to Connor's abuse but hasn't been able to intervene with Amanda's behavior on his son's behalf, so he (and Apollo) are sending along the gang to help him. They've arrived at the city and have gone their separate ways for now, but an ominous storm is brewing on the horizon, and Markus is beginning to question his views on Amanda's behavior.

When they reach the city on the river, he, North, and Hank seek shelter at Apollo’s temple, a grand testament to architectural achievement, a bastion carved of marble into the mountainside, in want of both a place to stay and old friends to stay with, as well as guidance for the interpretations of their strange dreams.

He and North, having desired travel to the city for some time now, requested a consultation with Apollo’s Oracle, Lucy, a far time in advance, to take place three days after the most optimistic estimate of their travel — four days. Inclement weather (and, perhaps, the wrath of Poseidon) dictated their travel take six, so their meeting would be tomorrow, as the rules of hospitality dictate. Hank, also in search of answers but unacquainted with the livelihood of heroes as he and North are, had not thought himself in need of a visit to an oracle, so he had not scheduled a consultation; when they approach the temple for sanctuary, they believe this to be a possible issue, but by the tidings of Tyche, this is not so — the Oracle Lucy simply smiles at them, emerging from her chambers in her regalia, blind yet knowing the way as one who has walked the same grounds for years, as she has, and invites Hank into their session before sweeping away into the halls on her business. Josh, her ever-stalwart scribe, waves at them in a welcoming manner with a wide smile which he and North return before ducking into the temple’s brass-and-brazier-lined halls in dutiful pursuit of his charge.

After securing for themselves modest habitations, Markus is put to task in helping around the temple. Though the laws of hospitality dictate that they all should engage in an exchange of favors for their board, the temple is in most immediate need of Markus, which is how he finds himself spending the rest of the day. As one of god blood and thus perpetually in a natural state of being god-favored, he is one of few who are able to consistently perform necessary tasks around their temples and places of worship — the gods are fickle, and so is their favor — and this temple, in want of someone beyond the Oracle Lucy in a state of god-favored, gleefully sets him to task in many of the more mundane aspects of temple life that the Oracle could not be reasonably expected to attend to herself, from certain cleaning duties to the upkeep of some of their sacrifice remnants to ferrying around objects of importance. This also serves to keep his mind off of Connor; weaving his way through the bustling river-port city, dedicated to Apollo but co-patroned by Poseidon, relearning how it breathes with the ebb and flow of people, how its wares are priced and how the sun climbs above its banners and rooftops, his mind does not have the time to wander to him and the events of yesterday.

The city is busy, as all cities are, and as the day wears on and the temple wears thin on tasks necessitating him, he becomes more an additional set of muscles than a quasi-divine servant of the gods. One of his final tasks of the day is to sell off some sheep’s hides, worked into a fine, clothing-grade leather, cleaned to remove all stench and fur brushed out into luxurious softness. There are ten wrapped around his shoulders; the trace ichor in his blood informs him that nine are ewe’s hides, whose host animal was dedicated to Apollo, while one is a ram’s, dedicated to Poseidon. A few residual sparks of divinity reside on each which disorient him, sensitive as he is to such things, for a moment, but even accompanied by the city’s clamor, they are not enough to disguise from him the presence of Connor.

Markus catches a glimpse of the mysterious ward of Amanda through the crowds in the marketplace, glancing longingly with head bowed at various wares, and heads towards him.

Of the many things that intrigue him regarding Amanda's ward, one of the more captivating is the way Connor's long, pale fingers move across his clothing, twitching as if they belong digging into sand, always kneading the rough-looking linen as if in search of something more substantial to grasp on to, and, failing that, bunching up the cloth in his palms to imitate the sensation. Markus is reminded of himself in this; the ichor in his blood keeps him primed for action, body and mind charged with energy to spring into motion at all times, even when inconvenient. If monsters are always active, always in motion, as Connor is, it makes sense for those meant to slay them to be filled with energy enough to challenge their foes.

Though, from what he's seen of the young man, mentally conspiring of situations in which Markus would need to slay him is an exercise in humor; laughable in their practical impossibility.

Connor's eyes meet his for nary a moment before they slide easily to the sheafs of wool on his shoulders, smooth brown quickly eaten up by the inky depths of his pupils in an almost comical fashion. Markus is observant, and has noticed the way Connor sends wide, mournful glances towards the displays of wool, head ever bowed and eyelashes fluttering, but raises no voice to sound his desires to his keeper, who is wealthy enough to afford several herds' worth of the finest sheepskin.

Disregarding the dreams and the storms -- the latter a conjecture of Poseidon's moods, not of monsters -- Connor behaved perfectly well and was never a threatening presence. The thought sits like a stone in his stomach, but surely this, by Amanda's logic, deserves a reward of some kind? Even the most loving animal companion will strike out against its master if mistreated.

With this thought in the front of his mind and the renewed taste of bile in his throat from one of his regrets, he makes sure Amanda is -- not distracted, but busy haggling with the hawker for whatever it is she desires from the stall, and makes his way over to him.

* * *

Connor doesn’t know if cities are better or worse than the coast. Near the shores, his sea-monster instincts lash out with unbidden strength against their restraints, but in the city, the sheer amounts of _people_ and _movement_ and _sights_ and _sounds_ and _stares_ crush in on him and squeeze his chest and put tears in his eyes and set him dangerously close to losing a different kind of control Amanda’s instilled in him.

It’s just...too _much_ \--

Before the morning’s over, Connor can no longer stop his shoulders from hunching in on themselves, fingers reflexively twitching over his clothing, smoothing out invisible wrinkles and creases. It chafes, after a while, but he can’t stop. Amanda is distracted, focus honed in on the business they have there, while everyone around them seems honed in on _him_ , looking at him, _staring_ at him with unreadable faces, then looking at Amanda with...esteem? confusion? awe? in their eyes.

Time passes at the pace of ice melting in the winter, if it passes at all; Helios crawls up the sky gradually, and Connor feels his rays shift slightly on his back through the shadows cast by the crowds and building. He can think of nothing else to do but send silent prayers as they wind their way through the streets, passing fountain after fountain dedicated to Poseidon. With each one, he can feel something inside him lash out sharply against his manacles, taking his breath and sometimes making him stumble. He quietly, fervently thanks Amanda for being so kind and thorough with her restraints and the gods for allowing him the fortune to not lose himself and his kind human heart with so many people around.

Around midday, after Amanda’s had her meal, they move into a section of the markets dedicated to fabrics and textiles. The competing, harshly-conflicting scents are less common here away from the food and spice stalls, though the number of people only seems to have increased.

His fingers, ever ( _wrongly_ ) itching for new textures to try, spend more time smoothing themselves on his clothing as his eyes can't help but wander over the offerings -- silk, cotton, linen, leather, animal furs; knit and weave of different spun fibers; spools enough to contain fathoms upon fathoms of thread of different temperament and durability. The fabric he wears, rough linen, a luxury that he should be thankful for, continues to bite into his skin.

In his palms, more than ever, itch the remnants of his dreams; never one to remember much of them (a human and godly thing, hampered by the monster blood in his veins), those strange, murky reassurances by the sea linger awkwardly (unfairly pleasantly; he's done nothing to earn such treatment, and it unsettles him) in his mind. His skin cries for the wool displayed in sheafs and the yarn spun into skeins, to wrap his hands around and dig his fingers deeply into their sensations, cast his fingertips across the fur repeatedly until he can feel nothing else. But he's barely worthy of the clothes he wears; being of monster blood, wool is as far beyond his stature as purple dye is to the normal human, a color reserved for royalty and the divine. Amanda allowing him any clothing at all is an indulgence that far exceeds his worth, he reminds himself and his monstrous inclinations.

Eventually, the generous Amanda settles in on a stall; she doesn’t need to tell him to wait quietly until she’s concluded her business. He does his best not to twitch unseemingly, but the environment pours into him and he _itches_. There's so much happening all around him, and perhaps it's the water-monster in him, so uncomfortable surrounded by seas of humans when he _should_ be surrounded by the vast and empty ocean with coastline stretching far off into the horizon--

Connor blinks, and across the crowd, Markus is suddenly there, looking at him, meeting his gaze; Connor drops his eyes immediately, as no one should be forced to treat him like their equal. Markus easily parts the crowd around him with a commanding presence befitting of a hero of his stature, and across his shoulders are draped several sheafs of wool, supported easily by Markus' finely-honed muscles.

Connor swallows. He doesn't really know why Markus would want to see him, but hopefully it can be resolved quickly -- he's already burdened the hero far too much with his existence alone.

"Hello, Connor," Markus smiles. Connor ducks his head to avoid eye contact dutifully.

"Hello, Markus," he responds deferentially to Markus' shoes, as he was taught.

It takes him a moment to sift through the reasons why Markus might be here addressing him; his mind is muddied with processing everything going on around him --

\-- Oh, that's right; he acted improperly yesterday and caused an argument between Markus and Amanda.

"I..." he wracks his brain for the proper words to address the hero in front of him through the din of the city, looking up at Markus' chin. "I must apologize for my actions yesterday--"

Markus shakes his head, interrupting him. "You owe me nothing; I owe _you_ an apology for both upsetting you by trying to force you into something you were uncomfortable with, and for the actions that led to you getting punished for my wrongdoing."

 _Even if I'm still not entirely sure why you were punished for that,_ the snide, less-cultured part of Markus adds silently.

Connor blinks. "I...it wasn't--"

Markus' lips twist in a wry smile. "It wouldn't be very hero-like of me to not accept responsibility over my actions. I was forcing you to do something," _I thought you'd enjoy; that no sane person would deny another of or injure another for partaking in_ , "that you knew you'd be punished for. It's my fault and my fault alone if an innocent dies or is harmed by the swings of my blade; I don't get to pick and choose what I want to be responsible for. I accept my victories and my failures both, and I apologize for failing you."

 _I'm not...I'm not innocent,_ Connor's mind protests weakly. He glances back into the depths of the stall; Amanda's still negotiating with the wares-hawker. She could explain to Markus...

His thoughts, for the first time, stop.

 _...explain what?_ He hears the question, small and shaky, echo in his strangely-silent mind. _Explain what?_

For a single solitary terrifying moment, he can't answer that question, and those fading traces of his dreams, of warmth and pressure and back-and-forth motion and ram's wool in his palms, reemerge to fill the void.

“...Connor? Are you alright?”

And he’s brought back to reality by kind words on soft lips delivering a sharp stab to his stomach.

_Amanda would explain that I’m not innocent, that I don’t deserve this treatment because it’s far too good for me, that -- that he’s wrong and shouldn’t be thinking like that --_

Connor nearly jumps out of his skin when he realizes he’s staring into a clear green gaze. He shouldn’t be looking him in the eyes, he shouldn’t be burdening the hero Markus any more than he already has--

Markus just smiles indulgently at him, and he flinches. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, he doesn't deserve smiles, they weaken his kind human heart, Amanda's words ringing out like thunder in his ears--

He defers his gaze to the sheaves on Markus' finely-detailed shoulder, eyes (still inappropriately, but...less so) drawn to one of the well-treated and finely-brushed ram's wool pelts.

The itch on his palms is still there, despite his linen doing its best to chafe and bite the strange-but-not-a-stranger desire out of his systems.

“Would you like some?”

Connor startles again; without him noticing, his hand had moved up, reaching out to grasp at the soft-looking furs on the kind-hearted hero’s broad-framed shoulders. Quickly, he retracts the wayward palm, ignoring the call of the one ram’s wool pelt and the strange knot in the back of his mind that whispers _that’s mine, it belongs with me_.

“I’m running some errands for the temple, and they want me to get rid of this in any way I see fit,” Markus encourages with a knowing smile.

A small whimper escapes Connor before he can stop himself, and he flushes with embarrassment.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Markus ducks down, placing a basket Connor hadn’t realized he’d been holding to his hip on the ground, then slings the wool from off his shoulders. He takes out his sword, and from the pelt of ram’s wool he noticed Connor’s gaze was especially attracted to, he loosely cuts off a square of wool to give to the frail young man.

_Monster or not, I’d give you all the wool in my possession to comfort you, but I don’t think Amanda would allow that._

Connor’s eyes widen when he presses the piece of wool into his still-partially-outstretched hand with a grin. His body goes stiff for a long moment.

“...If nothing else,” Markus coaxes with a gentle tone, pushing the piece of wool into his scarred palms further, “take it as a token of sincere apology for my behavior.”

That seems to be all his fellow youth needs before the slip of wool is practically torn from his fingers with a wet gasp. Connor’s body shakes as his riverstone-brown eyes are nearly swallowed by their pupils, hands fervently running up and down the wool on both sides, grasping it close to his chest.

“Th- _thank you_ ,” Connor sobs. “ _Thank you so much._ ”

Markus has but a split-second’s notice before Connor abruptly collapses. With a well-timed lunge, he brings Connor into his capable arms a quivering heap, curling in on himself as a wave does.

“Greetings, Markus.”

His eyes snap above Connor’s head to see the revered Amanda Stern emerging from the depths of the stall like a predator might emerge to hunt. Driven by an impulse he doesn’t quite understand, he grabs the slip of leather and wool and shoves it into the folds of Connor's tunic-shirt, out of Amanda's line of sight.

"Circumstances are conspiring towards that outcome as of now, and should that change you will be updated." Her dark eyes narrow at the scene in front of her. "Is my ward causing you undue trouble?"

Markus takes the hydria from his belt, uncaps the waterskein, and puts it to Connor's lip. "No trouble with a solution more complex than an intake of water, I should think."

His smile is made of teeth. "This is his first time visiting a city, yes? The sounds and smells of city life are known to be overwhelming to those used to the fresher air away from these places." He removes the waterskein from Connor's lips, then assists Connor in standing up fully.

The revered Amanda says nothing, evaluating the scene with a stony silence. Connor turns around too meet her eyes, his own shiny and wet from being overwhelmed.

"...Perhaps," her posture relaxes pleasantly, and she sends him a familiar, seemingly-kindhearted slightly-amused smile, one he once trusted unconditionally, "my age has caused my mind to lapse. I had forgotten what it was like to be new to city life myself; I did not remember to prepare him for all he would experience."

"Amanda, no, this is my fault," Connor babbles, returning to her side. A frown bites at Markus' lips at how easily he returns to his...caretaker. "I'm at fault-- I'm not strong enough-- despite everything you've done for me--"

"Silence."

Connor ceases talking, obediently.

His manacled hands quickly find his back and his eyes find the floor, standing next to Amanda.

"An early dinner is in order, I believe," she nods at Markus, "and a reprieve from the city during its most-congested time. Come along, Connor."

And they depart for their inhabitance, Connor not looking at Markus as they pass by.

He observes them descend into the tide of people as he gathers his things, hefting the woolen sheaves of fabric and leather over his shoulders once more.

As soon as they are out of earshot, a droplet of water falls on Markus, and he looks up to see dark clouds gathering just outside the city, with a stiff, foreboding wind on the rise.

**Author's Note:**

> yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
> 
> I have more of this
> 
> don't know if I'll post it tho
> 
> Special thanks to Anon, Delta, and honti for the brainstorming sessions! Y'all are the best! <3
> 
> (...So, I've been looking back at my notes 'n stuff and I realized I have a bunch of unfinished snippets/scene one-offs that aren't really fit for Ao3 but that I don't want just sitting on my computer, so I decided to revive my tumblr blog from forever ago as a place to put things I can't really post elsewhere! [Click here to check it out.](https://platinumdream.tumblr.com) I'm still more active on Discord than anywhere else, so that's the best way to reach me, but if you want some more of my writing I'll probably be posting unfinished things over there for inspiration/adoption lol.)


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